


Noise and Confusion

by Museical



Category: Supernatural, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: (Warning: Alanna's mouth), (Warning: Douglas' mouth), (Warning:Dean's mouth), Gen, Goldenlake Crossover Week, Mild Language, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 01:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Museical/pseuds/Museical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Alanna. Your brother is creating a scene in the main lobby. Again."</p>
<p>"...You do know that she's the nice twin, right?"</p>
<p>basically, <br/> ...It wasn't DOUGLAS' fault that red-haired temperamental smart mouths worked at Conte Corp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noise and Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm not going to try to rein in this fic anymore; it started off as a nice little plot bunny with a short estimated word count... which we've now managed to lap several times. More than several. It's set in an AU I've been devising, set largely around Thom (I couldn't help myself.) Other than that... well.

  
It was supposed to have been an ordinary day.  
  
Supposed to be. Right.   
  
Douglas looked at his computer screen, or what was left of it, and sighed. Note to self: laptops—even the high quality, expensive ones—were not bullet proof. Grabbing another liability form (he kept a stash of them in his desk drawer, because yes, that’s how things typically went for him at Conte Corp.,) Douglas began to fill it out.  
  
Persons involved:   
  
…Did Gary expect him not to include the people who didn’t actually work for Conte Corp. in this report? Because it was really mostly their fault. Kind of.  
  
Damage incurred:   
  
Well, that was a long list of things. Probably more than he realized at this point. The next question might be easier.   
  
Cause of damage:  
  
Douglas sighed. Gary so was not going to enjoy this report.   
  
It wasn’t Douglas’ fault that red-haired temperamental smart mouths worked at Conte Corp.  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
“Thom? …Thom!”  
  
The red haired man swiveled the black leather armchair he was seated in enough to glance over his shoulder. Well, glare, really.   
  
“What?” The impatient, bit-off response was not lost on Jonathan Conte, who bit his lip and counted to five before answering. “What are you still doing in my office?”  
  
Thom raised an eyebrow. “Investigating.”  
  
“Really.” Jon made a point of looking the other man over. Thom was slouched in the chair, one foot on the shelf in front of him, chin on a fist as he stared moodily into space. “I don’t know how I missed that.” He folded his hands on his highly polished oak wood desk, waiting in that all too-patient way that drove Thom around the bend.  
  
Thom scowled. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”  
  
“Your job? The one out in California?”  
  
Thom spun around in his chair, pushing across the room so he could lean forward. “As you very well know—don’t pretend like you don’t —my sister asked me to come out here after your uncle passed away a mere month after another attempt on your life occurred.”  
  
Sighing, Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know Alanna asked you to come out here. But those incidents are not connected. There have been attempts on my life for years, and Uncle Roran had a freak accident.”  
  
Thom sent Jon a patronizing look. “You believe that?”  
  
“Yes, I—“  
  
“You believe that the strange things occurring at Conte Corp in the past year are unrelated. Reports going missing on Gary, who has never misplaced anything before. Files unaccounted for that neither Douglas nor Sacherell could trace on the computer systems. Information, might I add, that revolves around you.”  
  
“Thom—“  
  
“My sister is not an alarmist.” Thom’s voice was iron-hard.   
  
Jon’s patience waned. “Nothing has happened.”  
  
“Yet.” Thom’s tone dared Jon to take the bait, and just as Thom knew he would, Jon rose spectacularly to the occasion.   
  
Hands flat on his desk, Jon bit out, “Thom, they’re coincidences. Nothing else will happen.”  
  
Thom shrugged and got nonchalantly to his feet. “Not on my watch.”  
  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
  
“Francis?”  
  
Douglas leaned in his chair, seeing his friend hurry past the open door to his office. “Francis!”  
  
The blonde man continued to walk down the hallway, his movements oddly stiff and wooden.   
  
“Francis, wait!” Douglas hurled himself out of his office and grabbed his friend by the shoulder, swinging him around. “Dude, didn’t you hear—“  
  
Francis’ eyes were bloodshot, the pupils narrowed down to mere pinpricks and vague, as though he wasn’t really seeing Douglas at all. Douglas could feel him shaking.  
  
“I’m…going….” Francis’ voice whistled oddly.   
  
“Hey, man, you alright?” Douglas loosened his grip and Francis swung around again, continuing that odd, march like gait down the hallway. “Wait, Francis!”  
  
The moment Douglas laid hands on Francis, pushing him to the wall, Francis’ eyes snapped to Douglas’ face, the strange gaze shaking Douglas to the core.   
  
“Let go!” Francis ordered, an odd shriek in his tone.  
  
“What has gotten into you?” Douglas gasped, holding the other man to the wall even as Francis struggled to get free, fingers curled into claws.   
  
“Must—go—“ Francis managed to get one hand free, raking his nails down the side of Douglas’ face.   
  
“Dammit," Douglas clapped a hand to his face, giving Francis enough room to pull back for another strike.  
  
“Douglas?” A new voice came down the hallway, and then running footsteps. Another hand caught Francis, forcing his arm around and pinning him face first to the wall.   
  
“Alanna?” Douglas risked a glimpse at the newcomer currently digging an elbow into the small of Francis’ back.   
  
Alanna took in the sight in front of her, Francis shrieking and struggling with Douglas’ blood on his hands.   
  
“What the hell is going on?”   
  
“He just, I don’t know, freaked out on me! I needed to give him some data for his presentation later today, and he turned into this psycho thing!”   
  
Douglas’ breathing sped up and Alanna waved a hand in his face quickly. “Ok, ok, calm down before you hurt yourself.”   
  
Doug nodded, but pointed at Francis. “What about him?”  
  
“Well, we can’t just let the administrators see our chief global development officer flipping his shit.” Alanna sighed. “Let’s get him out of this hallway.”  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
“So you…tied him up.” Raoul looked at Alanna, then Douglas, then back at Francis, who glared at him and shrieked something else into the gag. Raoul shuddered. “Ugh.”  
  
“What else was I supposed to do, Raoul?” Alanna slumped back against her desk, the largest piece of furniture in the otherwise sparse office. “We couldn’t just let him go—you should have seen the way he went after Doug.”   
  
Douglas pulled the gauze away from his cheek, grimaced at the blood, and put it back to his face. “Yeah.”  
  
Francis’ eyes rolled in his head and the feet of the chair slammed against the floor while his hands clenched and unclenched on the empty air. “That is seriously messed up,” Raoul muttered, looking everywhere but at Francis. “What are we going to do about…him?”  
  
“Can—“ Douglas swallowed hard. “—Can we do anything? Have you ever seen anything like this before?”   
  
Alanna and Raoul shook their heads.   
  
The sound of static burst into the relative silence, dulling the squealing of the chair-bottoms on linoleum before a voice came through the radios on Alanna and Raoul’s belts. “Alanna,” Jon sounded fed up, “Your brother is creating a scene in the main lobby. Again.”  
  
Rolling her eyes, Alanna unhooked her radio. “I’ll be right down.”  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
The scene in the lobby had reached a stand still by the time Alanna and Douglas reached the first floor. Hands on her hips, Alanna marched over to her twin before fixing him with a glare. “Thom, what has gotten into you this week? This is the third time—“  
  
Her twin, his arms crossed over his chest, leveled an equally venomous look at his sister.  
  
“They said George sent them.” He jerked his chin towards two men.  
  
“Hey, hey,” One man protested briefly, before Thom’s glare turned back to him. The man shrugged, but dropped Thom’s gaze.  
  
Alanna didn’t spare a glance for the men. “George has a lot of friends.”  
  
Wheeling on her, Thom hissed, “Alanna, look at them, and tell me you don’t recognize them. You know George’s “friends” as well as I do—better.”  
  
Alanna turned on her heel, but as she got closer to the two men, her expression became confused. “I don’t know you, do I?”  
  
The taller of the two men raised his hands a little and offered an apologetic look. “Look, it’s hard to explain, but we’re new and we just—“  
  
“—Just what?” Alanna grabbed the shorter man’s shirt-collar and dragged him down to peer into his face. “I’ve never seen you before in my life, and you’re not new here. George doesn’t send anyone topside that hasn’t been cleared by me.”   
  
“Look, sweetheart,” the shorter man snapped, twisted over by Alanna’s grip so she could look him in the eyes,--“Oh, shit,” Douglas muttered, seeing Alanna’s expression turn to pure ice— “We don’t want to start any trouble. Now if we could just—“  
  
It must have been his condescending tone that decided it. A brief scuffle, several punches, and a knee to the stomach later, Alanna was kneeling on the man’s throat, rubbing the side of her jaw. “You hit me!”  
  
“Ain’t no lady that throws a punch like you.” The man groaned. “What gives, Sammy?”  
  
The taller man laughed nervously, taking a small step back from Alanna. “Dude, Dean, she’s like half your size!”  
  
Alanna glared up at him. “Are you calling me short?” Douglas’ eyes widened and Thom snorted.  
  
The man, the one called ‘Sammy’, held up his hands again. “Hey, hey, I think this has all been a bit of a misunderstanding…”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Thom and Alanna shot back at the same time, before glaring at one another.   
  
“Can we talk about this somewhere without a knee crushing my windpipe?” The one called “Dean” wheezed. Alanna glanced down, grinding her weight into his neck once more before standing and releasing him.  
  
“You’re both coming with me.”   
  
This time, Dean snorted. “I don’t think so, sweetheart, not unless there’s a whole lot less talking and a lot mor—“ The butt of Alanna’s baton caught Dean in the gut, knocking him back to the floor. Alanna flashed her ID badge, so Sam and Dean could clearly read: Alanna Trebond, Chief Compliance Officer, Conte Corps.  
  
“See this?” She jabbed a finger at the badge. “COMPLIANCE means you do what I say.”  
  
“Ever heard of anger management?” Dean muttered under his breath as he staggered to his feet, only to be hit with Alanna’s baton again.   
  
“Ever heard of shut the hell up?” Alanna grabbed Dean by his shirt collar and dragged him upright.  
  
To the side, Sam rubbed his hand over his face, shaking his hand at his brother’s big mouth. “You alright?” Sam asked Douglas, motioning to his face. “That looks like it hurts.”  
  
“’S nothing.” Douglas grunted. “Bit of an issue upstairs.”  
  
Attention piqued, Sam glanced at Alanna, who had started marching Dean towards the elevator, and Douglas. “That kind of thing normal around here?”   
  
Douglas sighed when Thom, who was smirking at Dean behind Alanna’s back, followed them into the elevator. “What is normal around here anymore?”  
  
“So, the accident last week was unusual?” Sam pressed nonchalantly, looking at his fingernails.   
  
Thom’s tone dripped with disgust. “If you think things like that are usual, you are one messed up sonova--.”  
  
Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder before the man could react to Thom’s words. Time to change the subject.   
  
“So he,” Dean drew a finger across his throat, “because…”  
  
Alanna punched the button for the third floor viciously. “There was blood everywhere. His intestines covered the floor. His heart was missing.”  
  
Wincing, Sam ran a hand through his hair. “You found him?”  
  
The elevator suddenly felt far too small as Alanna spun and pressed herself close to Sam, face white. “No, Raoul did. He called me.”  
  
“Who is this Raoul?” Dean asked, exasperated.  
  
Douglas raised his eyebrows. “You’re about to meet him. He’s a lot bigger than she is, too.”  
  
“Great.”   
  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
“We’re only trying to help,” Sam exclaimed as he kept pace with Alanna’s hurried strides down the hallway. “If you would just—“  
  
“Yes, of course, my mistake,” Thom interrupted sweetly from the left. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you’ve been ever so helpful since you arrived—“  
  
“Raoul!” Douglas rushed forward towards the big man waiting for them outside of Alanna’s office. “Is he—everything…?”  
  
“The same.” Raoul grimaced. “Not that that’s saying much.”   
  
Alanna shoved Dean forward. “We’ve got visitors.” Raoul’s eyebrows arched towards his hairline at this. “Apparently they think they can help.”  
  
Raoul’s eyes, calm and giving nothing away to either Winchester brother, flicked between Dean and Alanna. Both had the same air about them, one he likened to that of angry wet cats. “…You know she’s the nice twin, right?”  
  
Dean’s hands twitched before he visibly restrained himself. “You are all just a bundle of laughs. Want to tell me what’s inside that room?”  
  
The sound of muffled screams escaped from behind the door that Raoul was currently leaning against. Raoul’s mouth quirked upwards in a hint of a humorless smile.   
  
“No.”   
  
“You know, what really confuses me is why we ought to be telling you anything,” Thom spat, pushing away from the wall opposite Alanna’s office to get into Dean’s face. Dean took one look at the lean man, and then at Alanna, who glared up at him.  
  
“You think he learned about social niceties like personal space from Cas?” Dean asked Sam, ignoring the bristling redhead in his face.  
  
“That’s enough.”   
  
Alanna tugged her twin away from the Winchesters, her grip like steel on his shoulder. He made a face at the back of her head, but Alanna’s attention was on Dean and Sam. Thumbs tucked into her belt—near the nightstick, Sam noted—Alanna relaxed into a guarded stance between them and the door. “Who are you, and why are you here? Give me one good reason not to take you into custody.”  
  
Dean opened his mouth.  
  
“And don’t give me any cock-and-bull story out of your ass, either,” Alanna snapped.  
  
Dean’s mouth closed.   
  
“Ok.” Sam sighed. “I’m Sam Winchester. That’s my brother, Dean. We came here because we heard about…some events occurring at Conte Corp recently. We think we can help.”  
  
Leaning away from the door, Raoul peered into first Sam, then Dean’s faces. “So, let’s say I believe you. Let’s say you did hear about—things—and you decided to drop on by for a visit. I haven’t ever—ever—seen anything like that before, and I’ve seen a lot of things. What do you think you can do to help with whatever that is?”  
  
Leveling a long look at each other, Sam and Dean shrugged. “We know some things about some things.” Dean stated. “Listen, just let us see what’s in there.”  
  
To one side, Alanna exchanged a similar look with Thom. “Some things about some things?” She muttered. Thom leaned the slightest bit closer to catch the end of her sentence. “…Sounds a lot like Roger.”   
  
The screaming from inside the room increased—Raoul had opened the door. The hoarse, unearthly shrieking had worn Francis’ voice from any recognizable timbre into something straight out of that horror movie Sacherell had talked Douglas into watching last weekend (and no, he had not wet his pants, no matter what Sacherell said thank you very much.)   
  
All joking expressions dropped from Sam and Dean’s faces as they followed Raoul into the room; even Thom’s face was pale and apprehensive.  
  
In the middle of the room, still bound at the wrists, chest, and ankles to the chair, Francis shook and fought his bonds, spittle foaming at his mouth. His hair swept across his face, and the skin around his wide, blank eyes was reddened. Douglas swore and bit his lip, hard.   
  
“It’s getting worse.” Alanna’s words were not a question.  
  
Anyone getting near Francis only made him more frantic. Dean backed away. “How long has he been like this?”   
  
“Couple of hours?” Alanna offered, and Douglas nodded.   
  
Sam sat back on his heels. “So it hasn’t been long.”   
  
Raoul shook his head. “No. And he’s been getting worse, fast.”   
  
“Did he say anything before…” Dean left the question hanging, gesturing to Francis.   
  
“He hasn’t said anything that’s made sense since I got here,” Raoul shrugged, and then looked at Alanna. “You get anything?”   
  
Not looking away from Francis, Douglas spoke up. “In the hall he was shrieking about having to go somewhere… he was headed to the West Exit, but I don’t understand. There’s nothing that way, just the forest…”  
  
Dean’s mouth pulled into a grim line. “Well, there is now.”   
  
“What?” The question came from both Alanna and Thom, the former looking taken aback, the latter as though he had bitten into a lemon. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Alanna snapped.  
  
“We think we know what is causing this,” Sam stood and moved away from Francis. “In fact, this gets us about as close to certain as you get in our field of business.” He held out a worn book to Alanna, who took it hesitantly. “Have you ever heard of the Ysandir?”  
  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
  
“This is unbelievable.” Alanna slumped back, away from Douglas’ laptop. Douglas and Sam pored over the reports on the screen, of missing people over the last month. “This is absolutely, unbelievably—“  
  
“I thought they were a myth.” Raoul poured a cup of coffee on the other side of the break-room. “Anybody else?”  
  
“Me,” Sam called, and “Same,” came from Douglas. Thom just shot Raoul a dirty look.  
  
“I’ve never even heard of these ‘Ysandir’ before.” Alanna complained. “And suddenly, they’re supposed to be here?”  
  
“They are part of the myths that came out of the Middle East, out of the Arabian Peninsula prior to the monotheistic movement that united many of the nomadic tribes of the area several thousand years ago,” Sam mentioned, glancing up from the laptop screen. “You know about them?”   
  
“Spent some time over there a few years back, yeah.” Raoul chugged the coffee.   
  
Thom, lying in the back of the room on the counter, bolted upright. “The Arabian Peninsula?”  
  
Dean frowned. “Yeah, what about it?”  
  
Thom ignored him, turning instead to Alanna. “Your favorite person. Where’s he, right now?”  
  
Alanna paled. “He’s at the university in Cairo.”  
  
“There’s no proof it is him.” Raoul shook his head. “You’ve got no reason to believe Roger’s got a part in this; it’s probably nothing to do with him.”  
  
“Wait, wait, wait, hold up a second.” Dean got between Raoul and Alanna. “If you think this guy’s got motive, then—“  
  
“That death the other week was his father.” Douglas stopped typing for a moment.   
  
“Oh.” Dean deflated. “Wait, he didn’t come back for the funeral or anything? What kind of douch—“  
  
“Odd family.” Raoul interjected tersely. Alanna remained conspicuously quiet.  
  
“And besides,” Sam pointed out, “These Ysandir are bad news, really powerful mojo. There’s no way someone could control one long enough to have it go after a specific target.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean recovered quickly.   
  
Raoul, pacing near the door, asked, “So. If you’ve figured out what is doing that to Francis, do you know how to stop it?”  
  
Sam reached for the leather bound book on Douglas’ desk by his right hand. “According to our research, the Ysandir are the remnants of a lost empire that controlled much of the Middle East at its pinnacle. The nomadic tribes from the area near where their city is said to have stood have legends about them.”  
  
“A legend is hardly going to be very much help,” Thom scoffed.   
  
“The legend,” Dean points over Sam’s shoulder to a paragraph halfway down the page, “is the same, regardless of the people, place, or century. The Ysandir call young men and women from their homes, from their beds, to what is referred to as the “Black City”.”  
  
“More recent accounts state that victims look as though they’ve been drained of everything—life, blood, color…” Sam shook his head. “It isn’t pretty.”  
  
“More recent?” Alanna asked, slack-jawed. “You mean, these things have been killing people recently?”  
  
Dean and Sam exchanged a grim look. “The intern that has been on sick-leave…” Sam didn’t have to finish the sentence.   
  
“Tirrsmont? Damnit.” Raoul’s fist slammed into the wall.  
  
“The Ysandir are afraid of fire above all else,” Douglas read quickly, “though their power rests far beyond the hands of mortal man. Give up the thought of seeking them out, or give up your very souls.”  
  
“Why fire?” Thom frowned. “What’s fire to something so supposedly ‘all-powerful’?”  
  
“The Black City was burned to the ground by the peoples suffering the tyrant reign of the Ysandir. The Ysandir, imprisoned by magical seals, have been unable to cross the ring made by the fire since.” Sam explained.   
  
Douglas rolled his eyes. “Looks like someone figured out something,” he pointed out.  
  
“Right. So, fire.” Alanna dusted her hands off. “I can do that.”  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
  
Thom sat back on his heels and surveyed his handiwork. “I can’t believe you think this is going to work.”   
  
Sam looked up from the salt circle he was creating around the pentagram design Thom had just finished painting onto the concrete floor of Conte Corps’ basement. “If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”  
  
“I was under the impression you were experts.”  
  
“Yeah, well, we’re the best you’re gonna get, so get used to it.”  
  
“Sammy?” Appearing in the doorway, Dean held up a flame-thrower. “Found the duct-tape and doctored these babies up.” Behind him, Raoul carried two others.  
  
“Got the incantation printed,” Douglas announced, coming up behind them with Alanna. “Seriously, though, Francis is really starting to freak me out.”  
  
“Get in that corner, over there,” Sam pushed the bag of salt at Thom. “Make a circle around yourselves, and don’t let anything break the line.”  
  
“Salt?” Alanna’s nose wrinkled. “Really?”  
  
“When that thing shows up, inside that circle’s gonna be the safest place in the room.” Dean kicked the bag of salt towards them again, but Douglas was the one to grab it up.   
  
“Ready for this?” Sam lowered his voice as he palmed Ruby’s knife.   
  
“You think that’s gonna work on this sonovabitch?” Dean asked skeptically, and Sam shrugged.   
  
“Can’t hurt, right?” Sam offered. The corner of Dean’s mouth turned down as he shrugged, but he tucked his Colt 1911 into his belt within easy reach all the same.   
  
“Let’s get this show on the road.”  
  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
  
  
“Dean?”   
  
Dean looked up while chanting the incantation to summon the Ysandir but his voice never faltered. Holding out his hand, Sam whispered, “Ruby’s knife…it’s—it’s humming.” The blade in his hand began to glow.   
  
All at once, the room lit up in a blaze of light bursting from the pentacle.   
  
“There!” Douglas pointed, and behind the light a figure took shape.   
  
“Oh, my.” A voice crackled through the air. The figure finished coalescing into the form of an ethereally beautiful woman with long, red nails.   
  
“It has been so long… and he was so small, the one you trussed up for me upstairs. But you.” The woman looked at each person carefully. “You all called me here.”  
  
“Stay away,” Sam warned, backing away slowly, Ruby’s knife still in hand. Dean brought his Colt 1911 up, keeping the Ysandir in his sight.  
  
“They speak.” The creature tilted its head before continuing in a condescending tone. “And look at the little one. It will hurt me with its little weapon.”   
  
Two quick cracks sounded, but the creature didn’t even blink, despite the two frayed holes in its red robe. Dean lowered the Colt, checking the magazine quickly.  
  
The thing laughed at him. “Your mortal weapons will not hurt me. I am Ysandir; I am immortal.”  
  
“Shit, man!” Douglas exclaimed. “You hit my f**k**g computer!” Dean leaned to see around the Ysandir; on the counter behind her, Douglas’ laptop sparked and fizzled.  
  
“Oops, sorry.”  
  
Two quick steps forward, and the Ysandir was at the edge of the salt circle. She grinned. “How quaint.” She stepped deliberately over the line. “You must think I’m like those demons you’re always chasing, Sam.”   
  
Raoul pushed Douglas and Thom behind him, further into the corner of the room and away from the Ysandir.   
  
“I am hungry.”  
  
A flip of her wrist sent Dean crashing into one wall, where he slid to the ground in a crumpled heap. Raoul charged forward, raising the fire-thrower and aiming before the Ysandir wheeled on him, sending him flying across the room to be pinned there, blood streaming from his brow.  
  
From behind her, Sam threw himself forward and grabbed her by the neck holding Ruby’s knife to her throat where it caused a faint sizzling sound. “Drop the knife,” the Ysandir ordered, hand clenched. Dean flopped on the ground, hands to his own throat as his face turned red. Sam’s grip loosened at the sight, but he didn’t let go entirely even as Dean’s struggles became more jerky and panicked. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed Alanna slide forward on the ground, the third fire-thrower in her hand.  
  
The knife clattered to the floor, light flaring from it. The creature hissed, throwing a hand up as she stumbled away from Sam. “You come armed with their weapons.”  
  
Across the room, Dean choked in a breath of air, his struggle easing for the moment. Sam angled towards his dropped flame-thrower. “But if you’re not a demon, then what the hell are you?”  
  
The Ysandir grinned before tossing him away from the weapon and slamming him against the wall with a crunch. Sam’s head met the concrete wall with a sickening crack, and the Ysandir pressed in close to run her claw-like nails down Sam’s jaw. “We Ysandir are gods and the children of gods.”  
  
Alanna stood up behind the Ysandir and snorted, a lit match in her hand. “A likely story.” She pulled the release on the flamethrower and a jet of flame enveloped the Ysandir, whose screams rose with the flames to the ceiling. “Gods don’t die. You do.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
Afterwards, things happened in a flurry of activity that Douglas only caught pieces of. Raoul dashed from the room, heading for Alanna’s office, while she slid to the ground and quietly put her head between her knees. Sam pulled Dean to his feet, kicking salt lines out of existence. In the back of the room, Thom quietly inspected the pentagram on the floor, where it appeared to have been burned into the ground. Swearing softly under his breath, Douglas poked at his laptop, but the screen remained stubbornly black, two bullet holes piercing it neatly.  
  
While the others ran around, Sam retrieved Ruby’s knife from where he had dropped it. Feeling eyes on his back, he turned. Alanna stared at the knife in his hands.  
  
“Where did you get that?” She whispered, not taking her eyes off of the inscriptions on the blade.  
  
“It’s from a friend,” he told her, holding Ruby’s knife out so she could see it. Alanna blanched, flinching away from him.   
  
“That—Roger made it, I’m certain of it.”  
  
Thom’s head whipped around in time to see Alanna stride from the room.  
  
“What’s her deal?” Dean nodded at Alanna’s back.   
  
Sam turned away from Thom and Alanna. “Dunno.”  
  
  
  
~~~  
  
  
  
Douglas looked at the liability form with dismay. There was just no way Gary would buy this one.


End file.
